BSG: BUMP IN THE NIGHT
DISCLAIMER: No copyright infringement is intended. Don't sue. I have nothing to take anyway.
A/N: This would have been up the other day, but I blew my computer up. RANSOMWARE VIRUSES SUCK! It's imbedded so deeply that I can't even do a system restore from the C prompt. Worst case scenario; I'm looking at a full wipe. Possibly. My comp is still dead and the one I'm on now is sort of borrowed, even thought the borrowee doesn't know it. I'm going to quick post the rest of part one (which is this chapter and the next), then I'm done until my comp is fixed, hopefully on Saturday. By that time I'll have some stuff written. The downside for everyone else is that there's no way I'll have this done by Halloween. I had my doubts to start with, but this pretty much puts the nails in.
So there ya go. Two more chapters and then the cliff-hanger. Kind of like the old TV show, yes?
Chapter 7
The interior of the bay looked as bad as the exterior. Flames had blackened floor, walls and ceiling. Struts sagged and cabling hung out of damaged areas like fishing nets anxious to capture the slow moving shuttle. When the little ship's spotlights came on, it all looked worse. Pools of white flowed across the wreckage, giving detail to what the darkness had hidden. The shuttle drifted slowly, following a path already cut through curtains of conduit and wiring.
"There's a Viper," a female voice suddenly announced from the seats in the back.
"Is it Bojay?" Starbuck craned his neck to look.
"No. At least I hope not," the woman replied.
"No," another voice supplied. It was the tech that had answered earlier. "Look at the metal. It was here when the bay was burning."
"It was re-arming," another voice said. "Look at the power cables running up to the gun pod."
"Canopy's down," the first tech pointed out grimly. "Whoever flew it is still in there."
"Alright, everybody sit down," Apollo commanded. "We're not here on a day's learning excursion; we're here to find our pilot, not someone else's." He glanced angrily down at the monitors. "His signal's coming from just up ahead. Start looking to your equipment."
"I think I got something," Starbuck announced a moment later. He pointed out into the dark. "There."
Two beams of white light swiveled across a shroud of wiring. The shadows around and behind were thick, nearly solid sheets of midnight, but something back there gleamed white.
"Yeah. I see it," Apollo nodded. "Alright, people, let's get ready to go," he raised his voice without turning. "We may not have a lot of time. Starbuck help them, I'll get us as close as I can."
The huge, fat shape of the shuttle nosed aside the remains of a hanging conduit as it drifted majestically forward and sat down. Only one of the forward spots reflected from the white skin of the Colonial Viper that hung nose up from a mass of debris. The young captain played the light across the skin, especially at the black hole yawning beneath the open canopy.
"He's not in his bird," Apollo called back to the milling group.
The group at the back was already moving fast, but somehow the dark-haired officer's words made them move even faster. Two of them had almost gotten their vacuum suits all the way on before the hard, rapid plod of his boots on the deck sole summoned their eyes.
"He's not in his bird," Apollo wormed into and through the mass to one of the ship's lockers. "That means he doesn't have a suit either." He grabbed a breathing mask from the now open cabinet and threw it to Starbuck. "Come on, we're wasting time." He pulled his mask on and headed for the outside hatch.
"Apollo, wait," Starbuck grabbed his arm. "This is a dead ship. There shouldn't be any power, remember? What happens if we go out there and the filters fail? Boomer'll have to scoop us out of the sky with a net."
"Bojay's been out here for more than four centars," Apollo palmed the switch that would make the door rise out of the way. "The air hasn't failed him."
"We don't know that..." the young lieutenant began. His friend ignored him and stepped out into the dark. "Of course, now that the hatch his open, it doesn't really matter, does it?" He glanced back at the wide-eyed group. "Well, come on. Let's get this over with."
Starbuck pulled on his mask, took a proffered handlight from one of the techs and stepped out onto the detritus laden flight deck. Even through the plastic smelling vapor the mask put out, he could easily smell smoke, burnt metal and the unforgettable stink of long dead meat. His hand hovered undecided over the butt of his blaster as he paused to take a good look into the surrounding darkness.
Apollo's combat boots made flat, receding thumps across the debris as he hurried towards the dangling fighter. He seemed stark in the harsh, actinic light from the ship's spotlight. Somehow the further he got away, the less real he looked. The shadow he cast seemed to loom and reach.
"Starbuck," Apollo called back, "bring a light. Hurry up."
Starbuck cast a glance back at the small group of faces peering out at him from the island of light and life he had just left. He sighed hard, shook his head and rushed into the midnight after his friend. His light bobbed across the damaged deck, occasionally flickering over the fighter and the man who had climbed up onto one of its wings. Somehow the cleanliness of the Viper made the damage of the hangar bay seem more hideous. The ship itself seemed like a night-flutter trapped in a web. Starbuck paused, flashing the light around, looking for the spider.
"Here," Apollo reached down, "give me the light."
As the light left his hand, Starbuck noticed the way the darkness seemed to settle on his skin. He looked back at the shuttle. The three ground crewmen were already out, coming across the deck together. Hurrying. If he hadn't been so worried, he would have found their jogging lockstep funny.
"He was hurt." Apollo's three hard words pulled Starbuck's attention back. He started to climb up on the wing. "Looks like the panel flexed when he and left an edge. He was bleeding when he climbed out."
Apollo jumped from his position on the fighter's gun just as Starbuck got up. He didn't wait for his wingman to join him as he strode around the back of the fighter and into the dark.
"Hey, Apollo," Starbuck looked to see how far away the two techs were. "Maybe we shouldn't separate." He sighed again and hurried after his friend. "Wait up."
The dark on the back side of the fighter seemed even colder, if that was possible. The light splashed up onto the fuselage, illuminating the trail of blood beneath the cockpit.
"You can see where he came out," Apollo said. He panned the light down onto the deck. Something caught his eye and he picked it up to show to Starbuck. "He started to dress his wound..."
"But why didn't he stay?" Starbuck asked. He looked as far into the dark as the glare from the light would allow. "He should have known we'd be coming."
Apollo played the light out across the deck. "He went this way..," he panned up towards a yawning hatch not far away, "...into the maintenance shops."
"Hold up, buddy," only Starbuck's quick hand on his elbow stopped him from charging out again. "Listen, we have to make a plan. Running around in the dark will just spread us out and get us lost. We don't need that, not here."
Apollo clenched his jaws hard and jerked a nod.
"Come on back, we'll talk to the techs and bring a medic," he glanced over Apollo's shoulder at the gathering darkness. "We'll bring some more lights too. We'll need them."
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"*ny act*vity out the**, Boo*er?" Apollo's voice crackled in his helmet.
"Nothing out here but drifting wreckage," the lieutenant replied. He looked out at the eerie starfield and at the other Vipers hanging in the darkness with him. "Listen Apollo, I'm picking up some interference on this channel..."
"Do *ot change **annels," the reply was harsh, louder than expected. "It c**ld be ling*ring rad*ation from the ol* engergi*er core, or some*hing in the hull a**oys."
"Apollo, how are you guys doing in there?" Boomer asked. "Your voice is sounding a little rough. Doctor Wilker..."
"I kno* what Doc*or Wilke* says about ex*osure," the voice bit back. "I** gone thr**gh it once b*fore." There was a pause and Apollo began again in a lower voice. "We're g*tting on with th*s a* fast as we c*n. *ojay wasn't at the *iper. We have to search for *im."
"Why didn't he stay with his Viper?"
"** *on't know. We do know that he w*s hurt and went into the *achine sho**. We're going after him now."
"Well, you be careful, Apollo." The pilot's eyes tracked across his instruments, looking for oddities. "We don't know how long it takes for exposure to such a dense EM field to be dangerous."
"Yeah, I know. It's on my m*nd," Apollo returned. "Listen, we** moving out now. *e'll get back as qui** as we can."
"Roger that. I'll check back with you every ten centons."
"Aff*rmative. *en centons. Apollo *ut."
